Fight of Shadows
by Sabishiioni
Summary: Elrond does something he comes to regret but Aragorn is the one to pay the price.
1. Darkness Attacks

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.

Warnings: Angst, torture, short

Mindless Babble: Based more on the movies with help from study aids

* * *

The man tore through the brush; heedless of the way the brambles tore at the already abused skin of his torso. Blood flowed freely from the long gash that started somewhere past his hairline and ran down the side of his face, matting his dark hair. His sword tapped against his bruised hip, causing the man to limp slightly. In his bloodied hands, he clutched his coat, bow and a quiver that held but a few white- feathered arrows.

He stumbled then, the poison flowing in his veins causing his limbs to become unresponsive and his vision blurred. He fell to the ground hard, his injured ribs screaming in protest. He lay there for a bit in a vain attempt to regain his breath. He had long ago lost track of the days he had been running and could not remember the last time he had eaten or even tasted water. He was dizzy with pain and exhaustion. But not so much that he missed the slight vibration in the ground. He dragged himself into a standing position and managed a few staggering steps before falling to his knees. There was a large rock formation not far from him in a small clearing and he dragged himself to it. He gingerly leaned his back against it and unsheathed his sword. He swore that he would sell his life dearly.

His pursuers stepped from the shadows and the man failed to suppress the shudder of fear and alarm. They were not the disfigured orcs that had held him captive, nor the hideous goblins that sometimes helped them. These creatures were covered from head to toe in draping black. None of them seemed to have faces under the heavy fabric of their hoods. The sound of metal scraping on itself when the creatures stepped towards the man matched the sounds of their hands grasping their swords. As one, the four beings bared their weapons and advanced on the injured man.

The man struggled to stand and leaned heavily on the rocks behind him preparing to defend himself. He was able to block the first swing but the force of it slammed him to the ground. Lying on his side, he blindly swung his blade and managed to drive the things back, if only a few steps. He winced as they screamed in fury and hate. It was like nothing he had ever heard before, a sound that defied description and pierced him to his very heart.

The maneuver had bought him a few seconds of life but the price was high. His blade dropped from suddenly numb fingers. A sabaton, an armored boot, kicked his weapon away from him. The man tilted his head up watching the creature raise a dagger to make the killing stab. With his back to the rock there was only one route that held safety: he rolled toward the thing as it plunged the sword down. The man stiffened in pain as the blade cut into the injured flesh of his back on its way into the ground. The creature screamed again as it pulled its blade from the earth. The man, now completely spent, rolled onto his back.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur, watched as the four creatures poised to take his life.


	2. Light Intervenes

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings

Warnings: Angst, torture

Mindless Babble: Aragorn is about 35. The people appearing in this fic are: Aragorn, Legolas, Elladan, Elrohir, Elrond and even a brief appearance by Arwen.

* * *

The moon was full that night and its light peeked through the canopy of autumn colored trees. The forest would have been silent but for the three elves that hunted with in it. Three sets of eyes searched the shadows for their missing brother. For two, the missing one was an adopted brother, brought into their house as an infant whose mother was not long for this world. For the third, he was one who had transcended the bonds of friendship, a kindred spirit.

When Estel had sent word that he was passing by Rivendell in a few weeks time, his brothers had been thrilled. They sent a message to his best friend and together they awaited the arrival of their human brother. Three days after he was to meet up with them, the twins, Elladan and Elrohir, joined with Legolas to go searching for him. Today had been the fourth day of their hunt and still no sign of the human. Tomorrow, they would have to report to Lord Elrond.

Three heads lifted simultaneously as a piercing cry cut through the still night air. As if one mind, they took off running in the direction sound had come from. In moments, the three friends stood on a tall rock formation over looking a small clearing. The scene below made their blood run cold. Four creatures, seemingly created from the very folds of darkness, loomed over the defenseless Estel.

All three elves instantly fired arrows at the beings only to flinch when the cry of the things hit their ears. Legolas was the first to recover and leaped gracefully to the ground below, positioning himself between the creatures and his closest friend. He sensed the twins following him seconds later.

"You will do no more harm to this man," Legolas said, the tone in his voice booking no alternative.

The dark things stood their ground for a few moments as if debating whether or not to attack. "The Ranger is ours, Elf!" one of the creatures hissed as the four of them faded into the shadows.

Legolas felt the burning fear that coiled around his heart turn to frozen despair. His chest suddenly constricted as he heard the cry from behind him.

"Estel!" Elrohir screamed his brother's name desperately.

Legolas spun around and felt the blood drain from his already pale features. The younger twin clutched the man's limp hand. His brother was at Estel's head, his fingers searching for a pulse in the man's neck. Relief tainted with worry flooded the elf's dark eyes.

"He lives, but just barely. We need to get him home to my father if he is to have any chance of staying that way!'

"If we travel through the night, each taking turns carrying him, we should reach Rivendell by first light." Legolas said, crouching next to Elladan.

Elladan nodded and Legolas offered to take the first turn. He took off his cloak and gently wrapped the injured Ranger in it. A soft moan of pain Estel's cracked lips.

"I am sorry, my friend. Please bear it just a while longer."

* * *

It was actually mid-afternoon when Elrohir burst through the front door Elladan followed close behind, carrying the injured human. Together, they tore up the stairs to Estel's room, where Elrond met them. None of them noticed the last elf as he walked in more sedately. Legolas quietly closed the door and made his way to the family room. There, a warm fire crackled merrily in the hearth. It did nothing to alleviate the icy feelings in his heart. He dropped the armload of weapons, both his and Striders, to the floor as well as his friend's coat. He stood there and watched the flames for a few moments, lost in thought. A cook that had noticed the elf that had arrived without his cloak brought a mug of hot tea and motioned for one of the plush seats that gathered around the fireplace. Legolas gratefully accepted both and curled up in the chair closest to the flames. And there he awaited news of his friend's condition.

Meanwhile, upstairs Elrond was getting his first look at how grievous his adopted son's injuries were. He gasped inwardly as Elladan gently pulled Legolas' cloak from the man's shoulders. He had seen worse on others but never on his own kin. A small whimper tore through the older elf's heart like a knife. He knew the Ranger had an incredibly high tolerance for pain and would often try to hide his wounds. For him to cry out like that, Estel must be in agony.

"Shh, Estel. You are safe now, at home," Elrohir said softly, letting his younger brother lean against him.

"I have …no …home." Estel gasped out. Elrond stiffened slightly. Thankfully, the brothers believed it to be the delirium talking and ignored it.

Elladan left the room and returned shortly with a bowl of water and clean cloths. Together, the twins began to cleanse the wounds of dirt and sweat that covered the man's body, while their father prepared the salve. The twin elves noticed the partially heal cuts, burns and bruises. They both came to the conclusion that their little brother had been held captive longer then either one of them cared to think about.

"Some of these are from orc weapons," breathed Elrohir as he gently laid Estel on his side. "Has he been poisoned, Ada?"

"Most likely," responded Elrond as he crushed some dried herbs in a small, wooden bowl. "I am more worried about the blood loss. Estel should not be so pale or so cool to the touch."

As if in response to the worried elves, Estel took a turn for the worst. Suddenly his body began convulsing as he struggled to draw a breath. His eyes flew open in a panic causing the twins to recoil. When Elrond turned to see what had startled them, he too fell back.

Estel's normally gray eyes were clouded over with white. His pale skin glistened with sweat. As his muscles constricted, Estel screamed. Elrohir and Elladan shuddered as they recognized the near perfect imitation cry of the creatures they had encountered.

"Elrohir, Elladan! Tell me how you found him!" the lord demanded of his sons, leaping forward to try to hold down his youngest son. The twins each seized a flailing arm and a shoulder, forcing their brother to lie still as Elrond examined each of the lesions.

"Last night, we were searching the forest just outside of Rivendell on our way back. We heard this wretched scream and ran to investigate," Elladan started.

"We came upon Estel being attacked by four of these… things. They were robed in black and seemed to be wearing some sort of armor. We shot at them; they screamed…" Elrohir continued.

"They sounded like Estel did just now," interjected the elder twin.

Elrohir nodded. "The arrows didn't do anything to the creatures except to drive them back a few steps."

"One of them spoke saying that the 'Ranger was theirs'. What did he mean, Ada?"

Elrond did not look up at Elladan. He knew his heart could not have handled the pained expressions in his elven sons' eyes. "It spoke the truth. What you and Estel fought were the Nazgul, Ringwraiths. They carry Morgul blades and unless I con find where the blade bit him, I fear we may loose him to the Shadow World."

The twins looked at one another then back to their father. "What does that mean? What is going to happen to him?" Elrohir whispered, the fear in his voice giving it an edge.

"He will become a wraith, like them."

Silently, at their father's command, the twins carefully sat their brother up and leaned him forward. It was now easy to find the cut; the black lines of poison marked it clearly. It was only about two inches long but it was inflamed and bled very little.

Estel decided at that moment to give up. His body suddenly went limp in the arms of his brothers, the battle for air surrendered. Panic and fear flooded three hearts.

Elrond was the first to respond. He checked to see if his youngest son still lived and sighed in mild relief. He stood and rushed to where he had been preparing the salve. He poured a small amount of oil into the bowl and mixed it with the crushed plants. He took a deep breath and turned to his sons.

"I must now do this alone. Please, wait downstairs," he said, his voice sounding of calmness he did not have. In truth, a storm of emotions warred in his heart- fear, worry, sorrow, guilt and anger. He was surprised to feel the last one and he promised to meditate on it later. Much later, after Estel was on the mend. He watch his sons reluctantly leave and sighed. With a whispered prayer to any deity that would listen, he set to work.


	3. Is There Hope?

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.

Warnings: Angst, torture, short

Mindless Babble:

* * *

The stars were beginning to sparkle in the night sky when Legolas looked up as the twins entered the room. He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard them. One look at the tear-streaked faces told of the depth of the agony they were feeling. Legolas immediately feared the worse. He made to stand but Elladan motioned him to stay.

"Estel is still with the living, but we don't know how much longer he will remain with us," he said as he sat down next to his friend. Elrohir took the seat next to his brother, the fear for his youngest sibling choking off his ability to speak. "Father is with him now. He is… Estel is fighting Morgul poisoning."

"Morgul?" Legolas' heart sank. Very few survived an attack from such a weapon, but he could not let despair drag him down now. He turned his gaze back to the flames. "I was remembering that time the four of us went fishing and Estel 'fell' over the side of our boat." A small smile appeared on his lips.

Elladan chuckled as he too remembered. "And then he 'accidentally' tipped the boat, dumping us all into the water. Father was upset but he was happy that none of us were hurt."

"Until Estel got sick a few days later," Elrohir said softly. The tears were still streaming drown his face. "You thought he was going to die."

"In my defense, it was the first time I had been with a sick human," Legolas replied. "And as I recall, I was not the only one who was worried."

"Estel did get really sick. Father told us that some humans died when they become that ill," Elladan said, not really wanting to remember that part of the story.

"But he lived." The twins looked up at Legolas, understanding slowly dawning in their eyes. "I believe that if we have faith in him, Estel will come back to us."

The twins smiled, and though they were but a ghost of what they should have been, it lightened Legolas' heart. He was worried about his friend, but he could do nothing for him. At least he could do something for Estel's brothers.

"I fear that faith may not be able to keep him from leaving us."

The three younger elves nearly jumped out of their seats in surprise as Lord Elrond entered the room. Each had been so wrapped up in their own sea of emotions they had not heard the elder elf's soft footsteps. He walked over to the hearth and knelt to stoke the fire.

"What do you mean, Father?" Elladan asked.

Elrond slowly stood but did not, could not, turn to face the three hope filled faces. "I have done what I can to fight the Morgul poisoning but the orc venom has greatly weakened Estel. He fell into a deep sleep while I treated and bandaged his wounds." The elven lord sighed and whispered, "I do not believe that he will ever wake."

"Do not say that!" Legolas nearly shouted. "Strider is a warrior! He will come back to us."

Elrond nodded half heartedly. "Estel will sleep through the night, as should we."

The twins took the not so subtle hint and, after biding their friend and father a good night, headed upstairs to their own rooms. Legolas lingered, though, making no move to get up from his seat.

"You should try to sleep as well Legolas," Elrond said, still staring into the flames.

"And what about you, my lord?"

"I will rest soon enough."

"That is not what I mean." The suspicions that Legolas had been harboring were confirmed when Elrond turned to face him. There was a haunted look in his eyes. "Something troubles you, something more then Estel's injuries."

"There is truth in your words, prince." Elrond sat down in a chair next to the fair-haired elf. "But I will not burden you with my heavy heart."

"If it will lighten your heart, I will gladly accept the burden."

Elrond smiled a bit. "Maybe sometime after Estel has recovered some of his strength, you will discover that truth. Now I advise you to sleep while you can. I will check on Estel during the night so you may rest."

Legolas stood, understanding there was nothing to be gained by arguing with the elf lord. He nodded to Elrond and ascended the stairs.

The elder elf watched Legolas until he disappeared into the guest room. It was then and only then that Elrond dropped his guard and let the mask of confidence fall. His shoulders slumped, his head falling into his hands. And Lord Elrond Halfelven of Rivendell allowed the tears to fall.

"Oh, Aragorn, please forgive me!"


	4. Battle In the Dark

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.

Warnings: Angst, torture

Mindless Babble:

* * *

As the suns rays flooded through the window, four elves slowly began to wake. None of them had slept well as each of them had made their way back to the human's room. Elrond gazed around the room, noting each of the younger elves curled up in various seats around the large bed that held Estel. He could not suppress a chuckle.

"Well, it appears that we are of a single mind concerning Estel," he said with a smile. "I suggest that we each take turns watching over him."

It was agreed then that the human would wake with a loved one by his side.

* * *

It was late on the eve of the fifth day after the four had arrived in Rivendell. Legolas stood at the window staring up at the darkened sky. His friend's condition had not improved at all and the prince of Mirkwood was beginning to lose hope. Only the stars saw the tears of despair trace their way down the delicate features of the elf. The soft moan was nearly missed by his elven hearing.

"Aragorn?"

_The man stood alone in a place he had never seen. He carried only a sword. His tired mind noted to his dismay that the blade was an unbroken Narsil. His heart pounded with fear. He did not remember how he got there or why he was so frightened. All he knew for certain was that he was alone._

_Then came the orcs. There seemed to be thousands of them. All of them were disfigured and hideous to look upon. The stench of so many made the man retch. They clawed their way to him, brandishing their whips and crude swords. The man fought them off but could not protect himself. By the time he had dispatched the last foul creature, he was bleeding from hundreds of different wounds. As he tried to catch his breath, a whisper reached his ears that made him shiver with terror._

_"Ranger, you are ours!"_

_Nine shadow creatures slipped from the darkness surrounding Aragorn. As one, they un-sheathed their swords and advanced on the human. Strider raised his own blade and readied himself for a fight he knew he could not win. The wraiths surrounded him and simply stood there. The man turned in confusion._

_"We do not need to harm you, Ranger. You are already becoming one of us."_

_Aragorn looked down at his feet, or rather where his feet should have been for they were gone as well as a good portion of his legs. "NO! I will not become like you!"_

_"Why do you resist, descendent of Isildur?" the Witch King hissed. "You have no one who will miss you when you are gone. The elves have banished you and the humans hate and fear you. You have no one."_

_The words struck with the pain of a knife. Aragorn fell to the ground in despair, his adopted father's words ringing in his ears. Tears streamed from bloodshot eyes as he remembered…_

_"Arwen will stay with her people. You cannot take her away from her family! You will live as a human and then you will die. Leave my sight and never darken this home again with your presence!"_

_"__Ada__…" Aragorn sobbed, unable to stop the tears._

_The Witch King knelt before the human. It reached out and grabbed the man's chin, forcing Aragorn to look up. With its other hand, it gently brushed away a single tear and showed it to the fading human. It was not a droplet of salty water the creature held but a tear of blood. _

_Aragorn pushed away from the dark thing in horror. He stood and broke free of the ring of wraiths, their piercing screams following him as he ran from them. _

_He ran for some time until he fell to his now visible knees from exhaustion. He was again alone with only his thought to comfort him, though they did little to cheer him. Lord Elrond's voice still echoed in his head, a knife repeatedly stabbing his heart and soul. The creatures were right; he had no one. Perhaps it would be best if he gave up._

_"Aragorn?"_

_Strider lifted his head to the familiar voice. "Legolas?"_

_"Please, Strider, fight!__ Come back to us!" The elf was speaking in the Grey Tongue, fear giving the beautiful language sharpness._

_"Mellon-nin," Aragorn whispered._

"Yes, Strider, come back to us!" Legolas sat at the man's side, holding his friend's hand. When watery tears had turned to blood, Legolas had panicked and yelled for Elrond. The elf lord had rushed into the room with the twins right on his heals. They now encircled the bed, watching as their friend called Estel back from the shadows.

Aragorn groaned, his eyelids fluttering before closing them again. "Legolas?"

"I am here, mellon-nin." Legolas gently squeezed the hand held, trying to reassure the Ranger.

"Where am I?" Aragorn whispered his voices raspy from lack of use. He struggled to sit up but found himself too weak.

"You are safe, among friends and family." Legolas tried to answer any question his friend might have without him having to ask them. "It is early morning. The sun is just starting to make its way over the mountains. You have been here for almost five days."

"Morning?" Aragorn asked, confused. He looked up his eyes open wide. "Is that why it is so dark?"


	5. Loss of Light

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.

Warnings: Angst, torture

Mindless Babble:

* * *

Legolas stared at his friend in shock. Aragorn's eyes were still clouded and they stared off in into nothingness. Legolas reached out and gently took the Ranger's chin into his hand. To his surprise, the man screamed in fear and pulled away. The exertion was too much so soon after waking, and Aragorn fell back into unconsciousness

"Aragorn!"

"Estel!" The twins yelled, leaping forward as their father checked the human for life. After a few moments, Elrond sat on the edge of the bed and sighed.

"He is merely asleep."

The tension in the room dissipated some. The twins dropped into the chairs they had occupied that first night, both breathing sighs of relief. Elrond looked at the elf that sat across from him on the bed. Legolas clutched the man's hand like a lifeline. The elder elf saw the damp cheeks; the younger had been weeping.

"Do not worry, Legolas. He will recover," Elrond said as he reached over to place his hand over the others.

"Yes, of…of course he will. He is Estel."

* * *

Later that afternoon, Aragorn awoke again. He sensed a presence near him and reached out towards it. His fingers came in contact with an arm and felt his way down to the hand.

"Welcome back, Strider."

"Legolas? You live?" Aragorn smiled in relief, ignoring the pain as his lip split open again.

"Yes, as do you," the elf replied, quietly.

"How long …have you been sitting there?"

Aragorn could almost hear the elf's smile. "Long enough, mellon-nin."

"Where are we?"

"We are home."

"In Mirkwood?" Aragorn once again fought to sit up. This time Legolas helped him to lean against the headboard trying to ignore the heat that radiated from the man's body. He waited for the other to catch his breath, dabbing at the blood that had started to flow from the man's lip, before he replied.

"Of course not. We are in Rivendell."

Aragorn raised his head to cast his unseeing eyes on where he thought the elf was. He was surprisingly accurate. "What? This cannot be!"

"What? Why not?" Legolas could see the fear and panic that clouded his friend's face and it only confused him even more.

"Because … I have been banished from Rivendell."

"By whose order?" Legolas asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

"Ad… Lord Elrond's."

* * *

The stars were just starting to appear when Legolas descended the stairs. He found the elf he was looking for in the library. Elrond was staring at the painting of the defeat of Sauron. It did not look like he had slept once in the past five days.

"My lord, I need to speak to you," said Legolas, scarcely keeping his anger in check.

"You have just learned of why my heart is so heavy."

"You banished your own son!" The younger elf could not understand how a father could do that to his own son.

Elrond sighed. "They were words spoken in anger and frustration. Estel and I had been arguing more in the months leading up to his departure. The last time I spoke to him, I let my fury speak for me. I told him to leave and never come back. If only I could take those shameful words back."

"He is afraid of you now. He fears your wrath." There was no malice in the young elf's voice, only sorrow.

Elrond nodded sadly. "I had hoped otherwise, but it is too late." He turned to Legolas. "Will you help me to repair the damage my thoughtlessness has rendered?"

"I will try, for Aragorn's sake."

* * *

Elladan walked into the room carrying a tray that held a mug of warm broth, a bit of bread and some water. He had just left to gather some food and was happy to return to find his brother awake and struggling to sit up. He set the tray on the nightstand and sitting down on the bed, helped the human lean against the headboard. The man had fallen asleep again shortly after talking to Legolas and had been that way through the night. The morning light was just beginning to peak over the windowsill.

"How are you feeling this morning, little brother?"

"Tired, sick and sore. And still blind. How are you, Elladan?"

The elf was a bit surprised that Estel could tell the difference between him and his brother. "How did you know it was me and not Elrohir?"

"You walk differently."

Elladan smiled proudly at his brother. "You at least have the hearing of an elf."

The words slipped from the human's mouth before he could stop them. "No, you just walk like … a dwarf."

"Ha ha. Very funny." Though the words were spoken with mock anger, Elladan was thrilled to hear his brother tease even if the voice was dry and raspy. For the last couple of weeks, he had feared that he would never again hear the sharp-witted tongue that he loved so much. "Just you wait, Estel…"

"My name is Aragorn."

Elladan stared at his brother. "But you have always allowed us to call you 'Estel'. Why…?"

"Because hope is dead."

* * *

Legolas had just left his own room and was walking towards Aragorn's room when he ran into Elladan, literally.

"Oh! I am sorry, Legolas. My mind was wandering."

"What troubles you, my friend?" Legolas asked, peering into the other's face and seeing a dark shadow there.

"Estel… Aragorn. He told me not to call him by his elven name anymore." Elladan looked down at the floor. "He said 'hope was dead.'"

The eyes of the blond elf opened wide in surprise. He knew Elrond had not told his sons about the last argument that had sent Aragorn on his way but that was not what disturbed him. He had not realized the depth of the emotional scarring that the distance had left on the man. He put a hand on the other elf's shoulder and said, "I will talk to him."

Elladan nodded, a tear running down his cheek. "I left some food in there for him, but he would not touch it. And he needs his wounds tended to. I would have done it but…"

"I understand." Legolas said. "And I will make him understand."

The feelings that weighed so heavily in Legolas' heart disappeared briefly as he walked into the human's room. He found Aragorn on the floor next to his bed, hopelessly tangled in the covers. The elf rushed to his friend's side and helped to untangle him, all the while trying to keep from laughing. He gently lifted the man back onto the bed, shocked at how little he weighed, and covered him with the blankets.

"What were you thinking, mellon-nin?"

"I just wanted to breathe fresh air," replied Aragorn, shifting to a more comfortable position on his side, his back towards his friend. His breathing was labored and the words were spoken between gasps for air.

"That is not the only reason, is it?" Legolas peered down at the man, noticing that Aragorn did not even try to face the elf. "You mean to leave."

"I am not welcome… in this house anymore," came the muffled reply, as the man snuggled further under the blankets, wishing to burrow away from this place.

"Is that why you said those hurtful words to your brother?"

Aragorn looked over his shoulder, his useless eyes seeming to focus on a point somewhere over Legolas' shoulder. "It will be easier on him… when the time comes."

"Then where will you go?"

"I was hoping you would help… me get to Mirkwood."

"Mirkwood?"

"There is no place for me with men… and I cannot go to Lothlorien for …Arwen is there." The last was spoken in a whisper.

"And did Elrond forbid you to be with her as well?"

"Yes… but I agree with him now. She… should stay with her people and… not with a weak human that will die."

Legolas sighed in frustration. Aragorn must have spent the last months very much alone, thinking about what was said and done. A thought sprang to the elf's mind.

"You sent the message to your brothers to leave them. Forever." Horror crossed the fair-featured face. "You did not mean to come back for you would be dead!"

"That was the plan." Aragorn again turned away from his best friend. "Then I was captured… and I never got the chance to say… 'goodbye'."

"That was the only reason you fought?"

Aragorn nodded, closing his useless eyes. "I must leave, Legolas… Will you help me?"

"I am sorry, Estel. I can not do that." He saw the pain of betrayal and hurt in his friends face and felt a tear trickle down his own cheek. He heard movement by the door and knew that Lord Elrond was listening.

"That is not… my name anymore," the man whispered.

"Why do you say that?" Legolas cried, his concern causing him to nearly shout.

"The same reason I need to leave… Elrond does not want me here…. He no longer cares for this weak… human."

Elrond chose that moment to enter the room. He made no noise that Aragorn could hear. He could see the man drowning in despair and wondered, briefly, if there was any hope for his son.

"If he does not care, then why did he shed so many tears when your brothers and I brought you here?"

Aragorn slowly turned his head back towards the younger elf. "Ada cried?"

Legolas smiled when he heard the human call the elf his father again. "As did we all when we saw the wounds inflicted upon you." He paused for a moment and glanced at the elven lord. Elrond shook his head and motioned for Legolas to continue.

"He loves you, Estel. He never wanted you to disappear from his life, contrary to his words. He was angry…"

"And my words were thoughtless; they have hurt many," Elrond interrupted, as he walked towards the bed. He did not miss the way his son cringed at his voice. "You most of all."

Legolas stood to leave, but found his hand trapped by another. He looked down at the death grip Aragorn had on him and gazed at Elrond. The elf lord's features held so much pain and sorrow that Legolas thought his own heart would break.

"It is well, Strider. I will be just outside the door."

Aragorn reluctantly let go. He cast his blind eyes back to the far wall, knowing his adopted father stood at the foot of the bed. He heard the door close and it seemed as if the sound was the closing of an iron gate locking him in a prison.

"You injuries need to be tended to. Will you allow me to do this?"

Aragorn simply nodded. Elrond walk over and sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled the blankets down and helped the man sit up. He began to gently unwrap the bandages that covered most of his upper body. As he did, Elrond noticed the unnatural heat radiating from the man's body. The elf tried to touch his son's forehead but the human flinched away.

"How do you feel, Est… Aragorn?" Elrond asked, trying to keep the pain from his voice.

"Cold, tired," was the flat reply. "And dizzy."

"I was afraid of that. You seem to have a fever that I fear may have come from an infected wound."

Nothing more was said as Elrond removed the old bandages and cleaned the wounds. He found the tainted injury and treated it with extra care. Aragorn did not move the whole time and only hissed in pain when Elrond cleaned the infected cut. He had finished rewrapping the man's torso and was caring for his wrists, when Aragorn spoke.

"Will I ever see again?" he asked softly. He swayed slightly and Elrond pulled him to his chest and let the man lean against him until he was done wrapping the bandages.

"I …I do not know." Elrond was surprised to feel arms encircle his waist, holding him in a weak embrace.

"Ada…" A sob and Elrond's heart broke. He wrapped his arms around his youngest son, holding him.

"I swear to you, Estel, if there is a way, I will find it."


	6. Loss of Hope

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.

Warnings: Angst, torture

Mindless Babble:

* * *

Elrond gently rocked Estel, a lullaby he once used to calm his children when they were younger, quietly sung. He stroked the soft locks of dark hair and tried to calm the human. Soon his son was asleep.

He smiled as he heard movement outside the door. "You may come in now," Elrond called softly. Legolas walked through the door, a sheepish grin on his face. "All of you."

The twins padded in after the blond haired elf, a light blush creeping over their cheeks. They gathered at the foot of the bed and watched as Elrond gently laid his youngest son on the bed. He pulled the blanket over the man and brushed a stray lock of hair away from the warm forehead. The elf looked up at the three younger ones.

"He is still running a fever. Would one of you please fetch a bowl of cool water and a washcloth?"

All three of them nearly leaped to find the requested items. They eventually gathered the things and presented them to the elf lord. Elrond chuckled, as he dipped the cloth in the cool water and rung it out. He placed it on the fevered brow.

"I did not realize that it took three young, clever elves to do one simple task."

Immediately, three sets of cheeks reddened.

"Will he ever get better, Ada?" asked Elrohir, sitting down on the bed, opposite of his father. He tenderly brushed his younger brother's cheeks.

"In time, he will heal." Elrond looked at each of the youngsters. In all three of them, he found worry tinged with hope. Beautiful blue eyes also held a great sorrow. In an attempt to ease the fear that had become embedded in each of the elves, he included. "Do not be concerned. The fever will most likely break tonight and will feel better in the morning."

Elrond lifted the damp cloth and dipped it back in the bowl. He wiped the sweat from Estel's ashen face. "His temperature is already dropping."

The elvin lord stood and ushered the three younger elves out of the room. "We shall let him rest in peace tonight."

* * *

_Blackness wrapped around him like a shroud. The air around him seemed to be freezing and burning at the same time. Aragorn could sense that he was not alone, but he knew that whatever was out there, was not a friend. He reached for his sword but found only an empty scabbard. Fear and panic constricted his chest. He tried to run from that place that caused such terror but his legs were suddenly numb and he could not move them. He tried to scream but his voice had been stolen from him. _

_The shadows suddenly lifted and Aragorn could see that he was surrounded by orcs. They did not attack the defenseless human though. They just stood there screaming in fury. Aragorn clenched his fists. _

_There seemed to be a blanket of cold that settled over them and the orcs parted. A shadow stepped from their midst and approached the human. Aragorn recoiled in fear as the Witch King approached him._

_"You may have escaped us, but you have not escaped the shadows!"_

* * *

Legolas was awakened from his light doze by the screams of his friend. He jumped from his chair and stood beside Aragorn's bed. The elf looked down in horror as his friend trashed in his bed sheets. He screamed no longer but seemed to choke as if something strangled him. Words were forced out in gasping breaths.

"No… Stay away…please no!"

Legolas grabbed his friend's face hoping to wake and calm him. Unfortunately his movements sent the man even deeper into a panic. In desperation, the elf enveloped Aragorn in a firm embrace. He continued to convulse almost as if the human fought with some invisible enemy. Legolas called out to him in common trying to reach his friend, but the human fought even harder.

"Estel! Listen to me! It is I, Legolas! Listen to my voice! Please!" Legolas cried in elvish. He pulled the man's head to his shoulder. He breathed a sigh of release as his friend's struggles lessened. He continued to speak in the gray tongue until Aragorn slumped against him. The elf looked up and noticed Estel's family had also been summoned by the screams. They stared in saddened shock as Legolas rocked the sobbing human.

Eventually, Aragorn gently push away from Legolas and collapsed back onto the bed. "I'm sorry, Legolas. I'm so sorry!" The elf was surprised to find tears still flowing from the sightless eyes.

"What do you have to be sorry about, Mellon-nin?" Legolas placed his hand over the others and was saddened to see Aragorn flinch at the gentle touch.

"Too much." Aragorn closed his eyes. He shivered at the memories that threatened to swallow him.

"Tell me, Estel. Tell me what was done to you."

The man shook his head slightly. "I would not burden you with my pathetic tale."

"Too much like your father," muttered Legolas. "Please Strider, talk to me. It you do not, it will eat at you like a poison and kill you!"

"You make it sound like that is a bad thing," replied Aragorn, smiling darkly.

"Estel!" cried the elven prince, exasperated. "You are very much loved in this house."

"That may change after you have heard my story."


	7. Waking Nightmares

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.

Warnings: Angst, torture, goodbye

Mindless Babble:

* * *

Aragorn swayed a bit as he tried to tie the message to the hawk's leg. He succeeded on the third try. He spoke to the bird in a rough sounding voice, a voice that sounded strange even to his own ears.

The man watched the bird fly away, wondering if he was doing the right thing. It had been six months since the last time he had seen his brothers. On the day he had left, the twins had been out hunting and he had not the chance to say his farewells. He regretted that fact terribly.

Taking one last look at the sky, Aragorn started on his way. He tried to walk a straight line even though it seemed the path was rolling like a rough sea. His mind was hazy and it took every effort to just keep moving forward. He swept the sweat from his brow.

So focused on putting one foot in front of the other, Aragorn didn't even realize he was walking into a ambush until was too late. A blinding pain erupted from the back of his skull, taking his consciousness with it. The last thing he heard as he fell to the ground was the cackling laughter of the orcs and an eerie scream that followed him into darkness.

* * *

Aragorn awoke some time later, chained to the rock wall of a tiny darkened cell. The manacles had tiny spikes lining the inside that tore into his flesh. His head throbbed as if there were a drum beating in his head and he wanted to throw up but there was nothing in his stomach to come up. He shivered as the cold, dank air touched the bare skin of his upper body. He could feel the blood trickle from the cuts made by the knives they had used to cut away his shirt.

The door creaked open and a wave of cold flooded the small room. Aragorn pressed his back against the rough wall as fear clouded his mind. An orc slinked in, a whip in his clawed hand. The human looked at the creature, confused. A lone orc should not have caused the terror he was feeling.

"He is not well, Master," the orc said, sneering.

He then heard the hissing voice from outside of the room. It spoke in a language that Aragorn had never heard before now. It sounded like some form of harsh elvish. The sound of the voice made the man's head pound even more.

The orc laughed cruelly. "The Master says we cannot use poison. At least not yet!"

The door closed, cutting off the sound of the whip cutting into Aragorn's flesh.

* * *

Aragorn hung in the chains that bit into the already torn skin of his wrist. Every nerve in his body was aflame with agony. The techniques they had used to inflict pain, both physical and mental, had been varied so as not to let him build up a resistance to any one type of torture. Between the beatings and the poisonings, the orcs had burned him with sharp metal spikes, whipped him mercilessly, and used a barbed rope to strangle him just short of blacking out. When they tired of seeing his blood, the orcs would literally drag the man to an underground pool of murky water. They would then bind his hands and feet and throw him into the deepest waters, letting him sink for a while before pulling him back to the surface using the rope they would tie around his wrists. He was given little water and even less food.

Aragorn gingerly licked the blood from his split lip. He had long ago lost track of time, his existence becoming nothing more then long periods of pain blessed with an occasional time of nothingness. He could barely even lift his head when the door to his cell creaked open.

Even though only an orc shuffled in, Aragorn knew another stood behind the door. He could feel its cold and terrifying presence. A hissing sound confirmed his suspicions.

The orc stopped in front of the chained human and dropped something at his feet. The nasty creature grinned and scuttled out of the cell. It took Aragorn a few moments to focus on the object. A wave of horror washed over him, as he finally was able to recognize it as a broken bow. A very familiar bow.

"Your elf friend is dead, Ranger," the dark voice hissed. "He died screaming your name naught but an hour ago."

"This cannot be," breathed Aragorn. In that moment, he realized a whole new level of pain- pain of the heart. "It is not true!"

"I would show you his body but the orcs tore it apart."

"No…" Tears streamed down his filthy, bloodied cheeks, burning as they touched open wounds.

The creature disappeared, leaving the man to his agony.

'I failed him.' The thought kept repeating itself in the man's head like a mantra. He had been left alone for the past couple of hours, letting him brood over the fate of his friend. So lost in dark thoughts, he didn't even notice the door open, giving way to the large orc that lumbered in. A squeak of terror penetrated the black fog of thought that had encased Aragorn's mind and he looked up.

The orc carried two beings, one under each arm. The one on the right was a human barely into manhood, light brown hair framing a face that had seen too many horrors for one so young. The other was a fair-haired elf child, bright sapphire eyes full of fear and confusion.

An orc appeared from behind his larger brethren and stalked up to Aragorn. "My lord is disappointed that we have not been able to break you," it sneered. "But this will give us time to find where your loyalties lie."

The shorter orc walked past blond elf, one claw tracing the child's jaw line. Are you more elven, like your 'family' or…?" he stopped in front of the human and cupped the young man's face with both of his leathery hands. "Are you more human like your heritage?"

"Leave them be! They have nothing to do with this!" Aragorn growled. The fear that they knew who was he and why they threatened these two beings gave his weary and battered body a bit of strength.

"Oh, but they do," the orc grinned, looking over his shoulder at the man. "You decide their fate."

Aragorn managed to glare at the foul creature. "What do you mean?"

"You choose which one dies first!'

A look of absolute horror crossed over the man's bruised face. "You cannot truly believe that I would do such a thing!"

"You may refuse," the orc said turning to face the human. "But both will still die. If you choose, it will be quick and relatively painless. However, if you do not, their deaths will be slow and excruciating.

Aragorn sagged in his chains, ignoring the tearing of his skin as the tiny spikes dug in. "I cannot choose, for both are my kin."

Both of the younger captives looked at him strangely. The elf's eyes open wide as he realized who the man might be. Hailing from Mirkwood, the elf child had heard tales of his brave prince and the young human Ranger that accompanied him on their adventures. He could not believe that this near broken shell of a human was the same reckless man!

"Strider?" the child asked softly, a bit surprised when the human raised his head. Switching to the gray tongue, he continued. "I am not afraid of death, my friend."

The orc stormed over to the fair-haired child and backhanded him. "Just for that, you will die slow!"

The younger human had been silent since he had first been brought into the small cell, watching. He had seen the anger melt into despair in the man chained to the wall and it angered him. The man had obviously been a proud man once, but it appeared that he had been here a long time. This place alone could break a person's spirit. But when the orc hit the beautiful creature, a red haze dropped over his vision. He twisted out of the larger orc's grasp and lunged at the smaller one. Moving faster then anyone thought it could, the orc sidestepped the charge and grabbed the boy's head. A quick twist, a sickening 'crack' and it was over. The orc dropped the body, scowling.

"I wanted to hear this one scream."

"Brenen…" The elf whispered the name with such sorrow, Aragorn felt as if his heart would break. He could sympathize with him, now.

Their tormentor grabbed the elf, determined to have some fun with the two remaining captives. He dragged the elf and stood him so that bright azure eyes were only inches away from dull silver ones. Placing a knife under the fair one's neck and pressing it against the pale skin, the orc taunted Aragorn.

"You couldn't save the human and now you are powerless to rescue this one. Some savior you are!"

"Let him go! I beg you!" Tears traced new paths down his cheeks.

The elf child managed to whisper a single word, hopping the Ranger would understand, before the orc ripped open his throat. Warm blood splattered across Aragorn's face and he watched, helplessly, as the life drained from the young body. The lifeless husk dropped to the ground, taking the last of the human's resistance with it. He retreated into himself trying to find a way to escape the pain.

The orc grinned in triumph as he watched the man go completely limp. He took a key from his pocket and released the man from his bloody shackles. Aragorn crumpled into a heap like a marionette with its strings cut. The orc seized the man's jaw and forced the Ranger to look up. Glazed, unseeing eyes confirmed what the orc already knew. The spirit of the man had fled. He let go of the human, letting him fall face down and turned to the person standing in the open doorway.

"It is done, my lord. He is broken."

The bearded man smiled as he reached into his white robes. He chuckled as he withdrew his hand. In it he held a ring. Taking one last look at the twin serpents with emerald eyes, he dropped it.

"The last threat to Lord Sauron is no more. I will leave for Isengard in the morning."

* * *

_Aragorn glanced over his shoulder to look at the three that were trying to catch up to him. Elrohir had the lead but his twin and Legolas were not that far behind. The human laughed, urging his horse even faster. He slowed as he left the open fields and entered the darkened woods. After a few moments of riding, he stopped and turned around in the saddle to look for his brothers and friend. They were nowhere to be found. A mild sense of panic set in as Aragorn realized he was alone and lost. _

_Something tugged at his senses. He let his gaze wander as he tried to figure out what called to him. His eyes fell upon a cave a short distance away. He nudged his horse towards the cavern but the animal would not go. When Aragorn tried to force him to go the stallion reared, throwing his rider. He then turned and ran, heading back the way they had come._

_Aragorn stood, dusted himself off and started to walk towards the cave. As he neared it, the pull on his senses became even stronger. He entered and walked to the center of the small cave. There was hardly any light here but the man was sure this was the spot his heart had led him to. He closed his eyes and let his hearing take over. A steady dripping of water caught his attention._

_Drip.__ Drip._

Drip. Drip.

Aragorn slowly opened his eyes and softly groaned. The only light came from the torched that hung on the wall outside his cell. At first he could see nothing; only hearing the water drops falling. He blinked a couple of times before he was able to focus on anything. Unfortunately, the first thing he saw clearly was the pool of dried blood that lay only a few inches from his head.

Aragorn moaned as the memories came rushing back, threatening to engulf him once again. A tiny flash of silver gave him something else to focus on, rescuing him from the darkness. He reached out with a shaking hand and grasped the small object. Rolling to his side, Aragorn pulled the object to him.

He opened his hand to find a familiar silver ring. The emotions that rushed into him were foreign to him at this point. They had not been felt by the man in a very long time. These feeling were mostly warm and comfortable. However, they were tainted by sorrow. Aragorn found a sort of strange relief at the familiar emotion and latched on to it. He then found himself remembering things that he did not want to recall. One memory stood out among the others. '_Leave my sight and never darken this home again with your presence!'_

Aragorn could feel the despair wrapping around his heart, attempting to undo all the good the ring had done. As he stared at the silver band, an imaged surfaced in his mind. It took him a few moments to work through the fog that clouded his memory to remember who the twin elves were.

"Elladan… Elrohir…" Aragorn closed his eyes, suddenly recalling his dream. There was one other in the dream, a fair-haired elf. The thought of him brought tears to the man's eyes.

"Legolas." Just saying the name tore at Aragorn's already damaged heart. His best friend was dead and it was his fault. Someone had to tell King Thranduil the fate of his only son. And he still had to say goodbye to his brothers. Then he would rest. Aragorn slid Barahir on the forefinger of his left hand.

With his mind made up and his resolve hardened, Strider struggled to his feet. The world swayed and darkened but he fought to stay on his feet. He leaned against the wall until his vision cleared. He moved stiffly towards the door and gave it a gentle pull, a bit surprised when it opened. Upon thinking about it, he shouldn't really be all that amazed; they did think him broken.

Strider slowly opened the door and peeked out. His cell was one of many that surrounded a central chamber, a room he knew well. As he stumbled into the larger room, Strider tried to avoid looking at the table that stood in the middle. He had spent many hours screaming and bleeding on it.

As he glanced around the room, his eyes found something familiar. Leaning against the far wall was his bow and half filled quiver. His leather coat lay in a crumpled ball next to his weapons. As he made his way to his weapon he looked for any sign of the guards, finding none. He heard noises in the hall and realized that the orc were heading his way. From the sound of it, there were only two or three.

Strider snatched up his weapons and readied his bow. He shot the first orc in the chest before it was even in the door. An arrow through the neck took down the next one as it watched its brother fell. The third one fell with an arrow in its back as it tried to run away.

Strider leaned against the wall as his body reacted to the adrenalin rushing in his veins. As soon as the dizziness left him, he strapped his sword to his hip and gathered the rest of his gear. He stepped into the hall and had to pause for a few moments to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. When they did, he found himself at the end of a passage lined with many doors like the one he had just stepped through. He heard no sounds from within any of them and realized that he was quite possibly the only living prisoner in this place, wherever 'here' was. He crept forward, listening intently for more guards. He reached a set of stairs that led straight up to a heavy wooden door. Strider slowly ascended the steps, his legs aching from lack of use.

He reached the door and just barely cracked the door open. He had believed that it would just lead to another hall but was pleasantly surprised to find an open courtyard. It was crowded with orcs that seemed to be getting some sort of convoy ready to leave. Horses were being hitched to heavily laden wagons heaped with food and weapons.

A cart near Strider carried a load of oddly shaped shields loosely covered with a tarp. The man looked around, carefully searching for any watchful eyes. Seeing none, he quietly slid under the tarp and pulled a few of the shields over himself for cover. He let out the breath that he had not realized he had been holding and tried to listen for any information that could be useful in his escape. He did not have long to wait.

"Hurry up, you scum! Our boys on the border need these supplies!"

"Why haven't they breached the city yet?"

"The human fools are resisting us! But with these supplies, the White City will fall! In a week's time, it will be ours!"

Strider felt his heart leap into his throat. 'The White City'? Minas Tirith?

"Let's go, men! It's already past noon and we have a long way to go!"

'Noon'? The sky had been dark. How could it be the middle of the day?

Strider shook his head slightly, trying to understand, but the pain-induced fog would not clear. He heard a whip snap and the cart jerked to a rolling start. Moments later a sound like a massive gate slamming shut, echoed around him. Then the only noise was the clopping of the horses and the squeaking of the wheels.

He tried to stay awake and alert, but his body had other ideas. All that had happened in his resent past caught up to Strider and sleep claimed him.


	8. Flight

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.

Warnings: Angst, torture

Mindless Babble: A former co-worker told me about the lavender and rosemary thing I use at the end of this chapter. It's supposed to relieve stress.

* * *

Legolas looked at his friend, fear and worry clenching his heart. He had watched the Ranger slowly worsen. His face had paled as the fever returned with a vengeance. His eyes closed and fluttered open as he fought to finish his tale. He knew his family surrounded his bed and he drew strength from them to continue.

"You need to rest, Aragorn," Legolas said softly. He laid his hand over the humans and was surprised when the man wove his fingers in with the elf's.

"No! I need to end it!"

Legolas pulled back slightly, the memory of their earlier conversation flashing in his mind's eye. The human grasped his hand and grinned mirthlessly.

"The tale, my friend."

Legolas could feel three sets of eyes fall on him, asking him questions he did not want to answer. Not yet. He was saved from being verbally asked, by Aragorn. The man closed his eyes as he relived the memories.

"I had been found when they stopped for the night. They had me surrounded and were taking turns testing their whips on human flesh…"

* * *

"What's wrong, little rat? Dance for us!" The orc laid the braided leather across Aragorn's shoulder. The man gasped in pain and backed away only to be lashed across the back by another orc. The man could feel the poison entering his system but could do nothing. He glanced up and spotted his gear leaning against a tree.

"Look, the vermin wants his fangs back!"

While the orcs laughed, Strider made his move. He gripped the broken arrow that he had managed to palm like a knife and lunged at the nearest creature. The human slit the thing's throat so quickly it was dead before it even knew what was happening. Strider jumped off the carcass and sprinted to his coat and weapons. He snatched them up and continued to run through the small grove of trees.

So blind was his flight, that Strider did not even notice that he had reached the main road until he was nearly trampled by a massive horse. The animal reared and stepped back in surprise as Strider stepped to its side avoiding the flailing hooves. The man that rode the huge beast looked down at man that he had nearly killed; ready to berate him for not watching where he was going. One look at the bleeding and bruised body stopped him. Instead he held a hand out, offering the stranger a ride. Strider looked at the hand for a moment his thoughts still in a fog.

"Come on, kid! It looks like you could use a ride."

Strider cautiously took the offered hand and swung himself onto the back of the horse. The horseman kept the others hand, telling him without words that it would be wise to hold onto him. Then he kicked the horse into a surprisingly fast gallop.

"Name's Draven."

"Strider."

Draven glanced over his shoulder in shock. "You a Ranger?"

Strider nodded slightly, fear creeping into his eyes. Rangers were not liked in very many areas and Draven was a powerfully built man.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day when one of you gets this badly beaten. What happened?"

"Orcs."

"Damn buggers!" Draven spat. "Bane of Gondor, they are!"

"They are going to attack the city in a week. I need to warn the troops."

"There's a patrol that is camped not far from here. I'll take you to them." Draven looked up at the position of the sun. "After a quick stop at my home."

"Thank you."

"Don't be thanking me yet. You still have yet to meet my wife." Draven grinned at the Ranger. "Looking like that, you may not be able to escape!"

* * *

Strider understood immediately what Draven had meant about his wife. The woman was short and slender with strawberry blond hair that was tied back in a loose bun. She came running out of the house as soon as she heard the hoof beats. She reached her husband just as his feet touched the ground and enveloped him in a crushing bear hug.

"Get off of me, woman!" Draven yelled in mock disgust. He briefly returned the hug before wiggling out of the embrace to help Strider down. The Ranger tried to be somewhat graceful in his dismount, but ended up falling into Draven's stronger arms. His wife took one look at him and had to muffle a cry in her hands.

"Meg, take this boy into the house and take care of him until I can get the other horses ready." Draven draped one of the Ranger's arms over the woman's shoulder, letting her help the man walk.

Strider tried to resist, but Meg had a firm handle on the situation. "I should help Draven."

"My husband can handle the horses on his own. You need to rest for a bit."

"I cannot. There are … I am being hunted." Strider did not want to tell her what hunted him.

"A few moments of rest and a quick bite to eat won't delay you that much," replied Meg as she brought the Ranger into her little kitchen. She sat him down at the small table and turned to the stove. "When was the last time you had a good meal?"

"I don't remember," Strider answered truthfully as he rested his head on his folded arms. "Actually, I don't even remember the last time I ate anything," he added softly.

Meg turned to him, sorrow in her eyes. "A bit of broth, then. And maybe some bread."

She set a mug in front of the Ranger and turned to fetch the bread. Strider looked at the mug and felt his stomach twist. It had been too long since he had eaten anything that even resembled food. He took the cup and sipped the warm broth. By the time Draven came back into the house to get him, Strider had managed to drain the cup.

"Do you think you can handle a horse on your own?" Draven asked looking at the Ranger, getting a good look at all of the wounds that decorated the man's upper body.

"Yes, Sir. If it's not as big as the one we rode," Strider said, as he tried to stand. The poison from the whips had worked itself into his system making him much weaker then he already was and he collapsed. Draven caught the other man before he hit the ground.

"Why don't you stay here and rest a bit. I can go and warn the troops."

"No. I cannot stay here. I would be putting you in danger." Strider struggled to his feet. The look of determination in his eyes convinced Draven. He helped the Ranger out the door and onto the smaller horse that was waiting for them. Strapped to the back of the saddle were his bow, quiver and coat, all tied in a bundle. Meg grabbed Strider's hand and held for a moment.

"Safe journey, Ranger." She let go and stepped back.

Draven was on his horse and already heading towards the road. "May Ilúvatar keep you safe," Strider replied before turning his own horse towards the road.

* * *

"Captain Ren, Sir?"

The man that had been sleeping in the cot woke with a start. His blond hair fell into his face and he brushed it aside with annoyance. He looked at the soldier standing in the entryway of his tent and suddenly felt very old. He was only in his early thirties but the other was just barely out of his teens and he had been fighting the orcs for the last 18 months.

"What is it Jonah?" Ren asked, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I didn't want to wake you, seeing as how late it was, but they insisted on speaking to you now." Jonah hesitated before adding, "And Sir? One of them really scares me."

Ren glanced up at the younger man, shocked. Nothing ever seemed to faze him. "A man scares you?"

Jonah fidgeted a bit before answering. "I can't see him real clear, he stands away from the fire, but there is something about him that doesn't feel right."

Run swung his legs off the cot and stood. He strapped a knife to his hip and slipped on his boots. "Are they at the main fire?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright then. Go back to your post, but stay close enough to hear if I yell."

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

Draven stood with his hands behind his back, watching the slender man make his way towards him. His dark hair hung loosely about his broad shoulders. He had not had the time to bind it back again after the half day's ride from his home. The moon had risen and the sky was bright with stars. He glanced back at the Ranger that stood next to the horses. Draven could tell the man was leaning against his horse, trying to stay upright. Strider had been unable to keep the little food he had eaten down, losing it only a few minutes away from Draven's home.

"You wish to see me?"

Draven turned to face the captain who stood on the other side of the fire. "Yes, sir. My name is Draven and I have some information you might be interested in."

"Who's your friend in the shadows?" Ren motioned in the direction of the other man.

"His name is Strider. He's a Ranger from the North."

"Isn't he a little far from home? What is he doing here?"

"Helping you."

Ren looked sharply at the bigger man. "You said you had information for me. What's your price?"

Draven looked a bit surprised but replied, "Only that you believe me."

It was Ren's turn to be stunned. "Go on."

"The orcs are gearing up for a major attack on the city in six days time. A caravan is bringing them supplies of weapons and food."

Disbelief was clearly written on the captain's face. "And you have proof of this?"

"I am the proof." Strider stepped into the light of the campfire. It was taking every ounce of willpower he had to remain standing; letting Ren take in all of the wounds the orc's brutality had left. "I was held captive long enough to hear their plans."

The blond man nodded his head, partly in understanding and partly in astonishment. "I believe you. Can you tell me where they are?"

Strider nodded. Unfortunately that took the last of his strength and he crumpled to the ground. Draven was at his side in a heartbeat and Ren a moment later.

"Jonah! Get the healer!" Ren shouted over his shoulder as he knelt next to Strider, who was gasping for air. "Rest now. We can talk more, later."

"No! They are getting closer!" Strider struggled to regain his feet, but both Draven and Ren held him down with little effort.

"Who's getting closer?" Draven asked. "What is it that you fear so much?"

Strider looked at the man that had shown him so much kindness and sighed. "Nazgûl."

Ren gasped in horror. "You have the Nine following you? What are you?"

"Someone you should not be seen with. I can tell you where the orcs are camped now but then I have to leave and put as much distance between us as fast as I can."

"Take Brax."

Strider whipped his head back around to look at the older of the two men. "I would not take your horse. You have need of him."

Draven smiled. "Then call it an extended loan."

Strider grinned in acceptance and proceeded to explain where the convoy was. When he was certain that Ren knew where it was, he got to his feet with the help of Draven. The two of them bid the captain 'good luck' and made their way to the horses. After helping the injured Ranger, Draven mounted his own steed and together they rode back to the main road.

"Where do you plan on going from here?" Draven asked.

Strider thought about it for a moment. "I think I will try for the Gap of Rohan and follow the Misty Mountains towards home."

"That'll take you close to Isengard. Perhaps the White Wizard will aid you."

Strider shook his head. "I would rather avoid that meeting if I could."

Draven laughed. "I do not fault you for that. That wizard makes me feel uneasy."

They had reached the road and it was now time to part. Strider leaned over and clasped Draven's forearm in farewell. "Thank you for all of your kindness, my friend."

"Just remember that Meg will have a fit if you don't come to visit sometime!" Draven replied, carefully wrapping his fingers around the others arm. "Good luck, my friend."

Dawn arrived and with it a small army of men swooping down on the orc supply train. Strider watched only long enough to confirm that the humans had the upper hand. Then he turned his horse north and rode for the Gap of Rohan.

* * *

Aragorn could feel the darkness fight to claim him. He would let it soon, but not until he finished. "I lost Brax to an orc ambush sometime after I passed Isengard. After that, I made my way on foot. The last thing I remember before waking in my own bed was four of the Nazgûl attacking."

"That was when we found you," Legolas said, quietly. "Now that we have heard your tale, will you please take some rest?"

Aragorn smiled at the worried tone of his friend's voice. "I do not think I have much of a choice in the matter."

"Then we will leave you to your rest," Elrond said, ushering the younger elves out the bedroom door. "But first…" He dumped the contents of a silken pouch into a small bowl of water. Then he placed the bowl on a stand over a lit candle. He waited a few moments for the fragrance to fill the room. Aragorn raised his head slightly as he caught the scent of something familiar. He tried to remember but the darkness was tugging at him.

"Ada? What is that? It smells familiar."

A small smile graced Elrond's lips. "It should. I used it when you were very young to keep the nightmares away. It is lavender and rosemary."

That evening, for a while at least, the nightmares could not reach Aragorn.


	9. Twilight

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.

Warnings: Angst, torture

Mindless Babble:

* * *

As soon as he was in the hall outside the room and had closed the door, Elrond was assaulted by the protest of the three younger elves. He had expected this and sighed as he put up his hand to silence them. Their tongues were stopped but not their eyes.

"Estel is sleeping peacefully now," Elrond said quietly. "We have other matters to attend to now."

"What could be so important that not one of us can stay with him?" Elladan asked.

Elrond moved them away from his youngest son's bedroom before answering. "On the night you brought Estel home, I sent for help. I believe that help has arrived."

The three elves followed the elder elf into the library. They were greeted by the sight of an old man dressed in gray, looking at the books on the shelf. He turned to look at the four a smile on his bearded face.

"Mithrandir!" The three younger elves sprang past Elrond and gathered around the wizard, each taking a turn to hug their friend.

Gandalf laughed as he returned each embrace. "Elladan, Elrohir! And even Legolas!" He glanced at Elrond, who had remained in the doorway. "And where is young Estel?"

The four elves quieted and bowed their heads. Elrond spoke, "Let us go sit by the fire. It is a bit drafty in here."

Soon they were all seated around the same hearth that Legolas had sat at less then a week ago. The same cook from that night brought to them steaming mugs of tea. All the while, Gandalf waited patiently for the story that he already knew part of.

"Some months past, Aragorn and I had an argument. In the end, I told him to leave and not bother to come back," Elrond confessed. He heard the gasp from his twin sons and knew that this revelation had hurt them too. "When he sent word to his brothers that he wanted to see them, I had hoped to reconcile with him then."

"So that is why you stressed us to bring him home!" Elladan said, making the statement sound like an accusation.

"Yes. But then he did not come." Elrond stared into the fire, seeing only the past.

"He was a captive of Minas Morgul." Four sets of elven eyes fell on the Istari. "I know this because I tried to rescue him. But the Nazgûl thwarted all of my attempts. For a while there, I even considered using Bilbo Baggins."

Elrond smiled, in spite of the situation, imagining the little Hobbit wandering up to the massive gates of Minas Morgul waving his small sword, Sting. "I doubt even he would take that mission."

"Which is why I was glad to hear of Aragorn's escape. Tell me how he did it."

Elrond told the story with frequent interruptions from his sons and Legolas. By the time they were done, the moon was high in the dark sky. Gandalf sat back in his chair, thinking of what had to be done. He stayed like that for many minutes before standing up.

"I need to speak to Aragorn alone. The four of you will stay down here until I return." He started to make is way to the stairs.

"Mithrandir? May I speak with you a moment before you see Strider?"

There was something in the young elf's voice that stopped Gandalf. "Of course, Legolas. What is it?"

Legolas moved them out of the range of elven hearing before speaking. "I could not find the heart to tell Elrond and his sons but I feel I must tell you." The blond elf hesitated, knowing what he wanted to say but not quite knowing how to put it. "Aragorn planned to say farewell to his brothers and never return."

"Never is an awfully long time."

"Not when you plan on departing from this life soon." Legolas bowed his head, not wishing the wizard to see the tear that fell.

Gandalf raised his eyebrows in shock. "He was dying in Minas Morgul. Why did he fight his way back?"

"He truly wanted to see his brothers one last time." The elf glanced over his shoulder at the three gathered around the fireplace. "I also think he wished to see his father."

Gandalf nodded, his mind trying to grasp this new bit of information. How could one so full of life and love feel the need to end it? "Thank you, young prince. Go back to the others and speak not of this."

Legolas nodded and returned to the circle of warmth. Gandalf watched the elf, wishing he could go with him. With a sigh he began to slowly climb the flight of steps.

As soon as he entered the room, the sweet aroma of lavender and rosemary hit Gandalf. He smiled as he felt some of the tension that had been building since he had first laid eyes on the four saddened, elven faces drain away. He breathed deeply, letting the clean scent work its magic. It did its job until his eyes set upon the figure that lay on the bed.

The body seemed too small for the large bed and Gandalf realized to his dismay it was because the man had lost too much weight. The blankets had been pushed down to Aragorn's waist, revealing white bandages that did not standout as much as they should have against the pale skin. Although Elladan had spoken of the tortures that his human brother had gone through when Elrond could not, Gandalf had not realized the true extent of the injuries that had been inflicted on the man. Now as he took in the carefully wrapped wrist, throat and chest, he wondered if the once strong spirit could have survived. Gandalf walked over to where the man lay on his side and gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from the sweat-drenched forehead, tucking it behind his ear, waking Aragorn.

"Who…?" he mumbled, not quite awake.

The older man sat on the edge of the bed. "Gandalf. Lord Elrond sent for me a few nights ago."

"Gandalf!" It was weak but nonetheless full of happiness. He tried to sit up, but his strength failed him. The wizard laid a hand on the man's shoulder stilling him.

"May I see the wound?" He did not need to specify which one as Aragorn rolled onto his chest. Gandalf took a small knife from his belt and gently cut the bandages. He could feel the man tense as the blade slid along his back. "I am sorry, Aragorn. I know this must hurt, but…"

"You need to see it. I understand," Aragorn replied through clenched teeth.

The strips of cloths fell away, revealing the depth of the brutality that had been inflicted upon the Dúnedan. The mark of the Morgul blade was still easy to find. The edges of it were still red and inflamed, through the lines of poison had diminished considerably.

"You know that you shall carry this mark the rest of your days," said Gandalf, softly.

Aragorn nodded miserably. "For however long that may be."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"I can feel them." The man turned his head so that the wizard could see his clouded eyes. "They are searching for me."

"I know, my young friend. I saw the dark riders from the back of Gwaihir." Gandalf gently pulled the blankets over the man's back. "They will keep hunting you until you are either theirs or dead."

Again, Aragorn nodded. "I cannot bring them here. The power of the elves will not protect me for much longer. "

A lump formed in the older man's throat. Though he knew the answer he asked, "What do you plan on doing?"

"I plan on falling back on my original plan; to leave Rivendell forever." He closed his eyes. "One way or another."

Gandalf closed his own eyes and bowed his head. "Legolas told me of your plan."

"Then will you help me? I have no one else to turn to." Aragorn reached out blindly trying to find the wizard's hand. Gandalf grabbed the flailing hand and held it tight. "Please?"

The heart of the Maiar wrenched at the whispered plea. "There is a glass bottle in my bag that is on the chest of drawers. It is wrapped in a silk cloth. It is used for cleaning badly infected wounds."

Aragorn squeezed Gandalf's hand in understanding. "Look after the others. Especially Legolas. He will not understand." Though he could not see it, Aragorn felt the older man stiffly nod. "Thank you, my friend."

Gandalf stood then, releasing the younger man's hand. "My mind knows this is what you must do but my heart rallies against it. Farwell, Aragorn. Until we meet again."

* * *

Elrond looked up as Mithrandir once again joined them at the fireside. He did not like the haunted look in the wizard's eye. Something was very wrong to disturb him so. He waited for a few moments before he lost his patience.

"What is it, Gandalf?"

"The poison no longer springs from the wound, but from the shadows of his heart."

The elf lord reacted as if he had been slapped. "He was alone for too long with my angry words as company. I deeply desire to have my son back, but how do I cast a light to banish those shadow?"

"I fear it may be too late for that."

"What do you mean, Mithrandir?" asked Legolas, eyes full of worry.

A sound from Aragorn's room prevented Gandalf's reply. The four elves stood at once.

"Strider is probably trying to get a 'breath of fresh air' as he puts it," said Legolas, with a shaky smile.

"Then I shall go up and get him back into bed, the stubborn human." Elrond replied. He hopped the young elf was correct but a fog of dread surrounded his heart.

None of the elves noticed the tear making its way towards Gandalf's gray beard.

Elrond rapidly ascended the stairs and entered his adopted son's room. At first, the horror of what lay before him was too much for his mind to comprehend. Aragorn, wearing only a pair of loose sleeping pants lay sprawled on the floor. A bottle wrapped in black silk lay half empty in his limp hand. His hair created a dark halo around features that were becoming paler and cooler. Even now, his lips were fading to a shade of blue. His bare chest of scars and half healed wounds did not rise.

"No." The single word came out as a whispered plea as Elrond dropped to the floor next to his son and tried to find a pulse. He could find no throbbing beneath his long fingers.

"NOOOO!" This time, the word was shouted in denial.

Moments later, the others had gathered behind the stricken father. Gandalf bowed his head.

"Aragorn, the last in the line of kings, is dead."


	10. Into the West

Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR nor do I own the song

Warnings: Angst

Mindless Babble: Shhh! This has a song in it!

* * *

_Lay down_

_Your sweet and weary head_

_Night is falling_

_You have come to journey's end_

Elrond gathered the lifeless body into his arms and held it close. Tears ran, unchecked, down his cheeks to fall on even paler skin. The elf let his fingers run through the dark silken locks as he cradled his lost child. He remembered a time when he had held his son in much the same way; only it was Estel who wept. His mother, Gilraen, had succumbed to the grief of losing her beloved husband, leaving the flawed, human child alone in a world of seemingly perfect elves.

Elrond had held him then, telling the boy that he would always have a home in Rivendell.

_Sleep now _

_Dream- of the ones who came before_

_They are calling_

_From across distant shore_

Gandalf looked upon the elf lord with sad eyes. He watched the three younger elves go to kneel next to the human and his adoptive father. There was shock, disbelief and hurt clearly written on their faces. The wizard knew his own face reflected the same emotions. His heart had become unbearably heavy. As Gandalf watch the elves, a single thought kept repeating in his head.

'Have I done the right thing?'

_Why do you weep? _

_What are these tears upon your face?_

_Soon you will see_

_All of your fears will pass away_

The beautiful elf-maiden stared up at the stars easily finding the star of Eärendil shining bright in the early morning light. She stood on the hill of Cerin Amroth, still dressed in her sleeping gown, trying to think through a puzzle that taunted her. She had come to this place hoping the stars would help her, but they held no answers. They could not explain to her why she had woken to a pain like that of a knife being plunged into her very heart.

Starlight turned her tears to diamonds as Lady Arwen Undomiel wept for reasons unknown to her.

_Safe in my arms_

_You're only sleeping_

Legolas took the vial from the floor to set it aside. His fingers brushed his friend's hand and he recoiled in horror. The hand was so cold! Cradled in the arms of the only father he had ever known, Legolas could almost believe that Aragorn was merely asleep. His heart believed it.

But his mind knew he would never see the silver eyes of his best friend again.

_What can you see _

_On the horizon?_

_Why do the white gulls call?_

It was some time later, and the sun was just coming over the mountains. Elrohir watched its passage with deadened eyes. His little brother was dead. How dare the sun rise on such an occasion? He sat on the balcony outside his room, a place that had usually given him comfort. His cheeks were wet through the light breeze the disheveled his hair tried to dry them.

Shouldn't it be raining?

_Across the sea_

_A pale moon rises_

_The ships have come_

_To carry you home_

Elrond stepped into circular room, pausing briefly to glance at the mural painted on the far wall of white ships with tall sails. He gently laid the body of Aragorn on the altar that had been draped in black velvet. He carefully set his son's head on the small pillow, brushing the silken locks of dark hair from the ashen face. The man had been dressed in his finest clothing. Elrond could almost hear his son protesting, saying that he would have preferred to be honored in his Ranger's gear. The thought brought a faint smile to the lip of the elf.

At Aragorn's feet, Elrond laid the shards of Narsil, the blade that was broken.

_And all will turn to silver glass_

_Alight on the water_

_All souls pass_

Elladan found his twin on his balcony sobbing uncontrollably. The elder of them (only by a few minutes, as Elrohir would often say) stood in the doorway a moment before going to sit behind his brother. Elladan wrapped his arms around Elrohir's shaking shoulders. The younger sank into the embrace, glad for the company. The sun lit the water turning it to silver.

The same shade as their brother's eyes.

_Hope fades_

_Into the world of night_

_Through shadows falling_

_Out of memory and time_

Nine riders dressed in black thundered across the open plain, their horses foaming at the mouth. Suddenly the lead rider reined in his horse, causing the animal to rear up. The other eight slowed their own mounts and returned to their leader. Wordlessly they confirmed what they had felt. As one, they spoke the thought out loud.

"The Ranger is dead."

_Don't say_

_We have come now to the end_

_White shores are calling_

_You and I will meet again_

_And you'll be here in my arms_

_Just sleeping_

Legolas sat in the window, listening to the elven voices raised in song, a lament for Estel. He glanced into the circular room, avoiding the altar the stood in the center of the chamber. On the wall opposite of the entrance was a mural of great white ships crossing a rough sea. The rest of the room was seemingly made up of glass separated by large stone pillars. The ceiling was a clear dome of glass that allowed the soft pink light of the partly cloudy morning to light the small area. Without wishing to do so, the blue eyes of Legolas fell on his friend.

Aragorn looked so peaceful. The last time the elf had seen him so serene was on a hunting trip that Legolas had taken a young Estel on. It was the first time they had gone without the twins and it had gone well enough. They had not actually killed anything but the shy and quiet had finally relaxed around the Noldor elf. They had started to make their way back to Rivendell when a sudden downpour forced them to seek shelter. Estel had found a shallow cave that offered a bit of protection and together they huddled in it. The boy had started to shiver so Legolas pulled him to his chest and wrapped his cloak around the both of them. The rain eventually let up and the Legolas moved to stand but stopped when he noticed the child in his arms.

Sleeping safely in the arms of the elf.

_What can you see_

_On the horizon?_

_Why do the white gulls cry?_

Elrond wandered through the halls of the Last Homely House, images from the past superimposing on the present. A newly widowed Gilraen softly singing a lullaby to her infant son. Elladan and Elrohir, still in their warriors garb playing with a three year old Estel. A boy of four winters curled up next to his mother's grave marker. The young teen wistfully watching elven children his own age play; watching because he was rarely ever invited to join. A young man sitting by the fireplace reading. A man of many summers, still looking young, presenting the elf lord a carving of a great eagle.

A breeze swept through an open window carrying the scent of rain and the cry of the seabirds.

_Across the sea_

_A pale moon rises_

_The ships have come_

_To carry you home_

Gandalf sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea growing cold as his stared unseeingly at it. He had seen the twins trying to comfort each other in Elrohir's room. Legolas had chosen to sit with his friend pondering how the human had taken up residence in such a great part of his elven heart in such a short time. Elrond still wandered the halls of the Last Homely House seeing only images from the past. Gandalf turned his own thoughts inward. Though his heart ached terribly, he knew he had done the right thing.

He just needed to come home soon.

_And all will turn to silver glass_

_A light on the water_

_Grey ships pass_

_Into the West_

He was weeping. His best friend had tears streaming down his pale cheeks. That wasn't right. His friend never cried. What could have happened to cause such painful grief? A memory suddenly rose in his mind. A bottle wrapped in a smooth material that contained a bitter tasting liquid. Then came the feeling of weightlessness. He remembered seeing his family and friend gathered around a body; his body. He had died.

"Legolas?"


	11. A New Hope

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Mindless Babble: Yes, I'm mixing movie titles.

* * *

The fair-haired being nearly fell off the small couch that sat next to one of the windows. Someone had called his name. The voice had been raspy but strangely familiar.

"Aragorn?" Disbelief caused the elf's voice to break.

Clear, silver eyes watch him, worriedly. The human had turned his head but made no other movements. Legolas, on the other hand, had gotten over the initial shock and picked himself off the floor. He had also drawn a small knife from his boot and held ready. Anger now colored his features.

"What are you?" he growled.

Aragorn heard the malice in his friend's voice and blinked in surprise. He rolled onto his side. "Mellon-nin?"

"Do not call me that!" Legolas snarled. "My friend is dead!"

Aragorn tried to stand. "No… I live. Gandalf…"

Whatever he was going to say was lost as the man fell, realizing too late that his legs could not support him. He heard the sound of metal hitting the stone floor and suddenly strong arms wrapped around him, slowing his descent. The world swam before his eyes and Aragorn feared he would black out before he was given a chance to explain.

"How can this be? You were so cold only moments ago!" Legolas held the human close as if he feared the human would disappear into a grief induced nightmare.

"Gandalf." Aragorn looked up into pools of blue and almost laughed at his friend's confusion. "I asked him to do the one thing I could not have asked of you or my family. He agreed, or so I thought."

"Mithrandir gave you poison?" The pain of betrayal fought for dominance with the anger that rose in the elf's heart.

"Apparently, not a lethal one," Aragorn replied through clenched teeth.

"Actually, it was quite lethal," a deep voice interrupted from the doorway. Aragorn felt the protective arms of the elf tighten around him as Gandalf stepped into the room. Legolas was glaring at the wizard so fiercely that the older man missed the dark look he was receiving from the younger one.

"How could you?" Legolas snarled.

"He had to," Aragorn said. "Although I had thought death was a little more permanent."

"But why?" Strider could see the confusion, anger and betrayal cross his friend's face.

"The Ringwraith had marked me and the nine of them were following me. If Gandalf had not done what he did, I would have led them here."

"They now believe that you are dead, Aragorn, and are returning to Minas Morgul," the Istari said, stepping towards the pair. He knelt next to them and reached out to touch the man's face. Aragorn pulled away and Legolas covered his friend's head with his arms. Neither missed the sorrow that appeared in the clear blue eyes of the wizard.

"Stay away from me, ihûg mellon!" Aragorn ignored the hurt that crossed the other man's face and continued. "I trusted you and you betrayed me!"

"I am truly sorry but you still have too much left to do in this world…"

"How dare you?" the man hissed. "How dare you use my destiny to harm my family?"

"What do you mean, Strider?" Legolas asked, completely confused. "He gave you back to us even after what you asked him to do."

"He gave you a taste of what it will be like when I truly die." Aragorn turned his attention back to Gandalf. "They would have mourned me and moved on. Now they will be forced to live through it again!"

Aragorn lunged at the old man, not actually knowing what he planed to do. It didn't really matter. His weakened body betrayed Aragorn, suddenly going limp. With his eyes going glassy, he slumped back into the arms of the elf.

Legolas looked up from his friend's pale face to look into the elderly features of the man that had killed his best friend. "He spoke the truth in that you have hurt us, but I understand why. I am thankful that I will still have time with him before we are parted forever."

Gandalf tore his attention from Aragorn and smiled sadly. "Perhaps, then, someday he will also understand and maybe even forgive me. Now I think we should get him back to his room."

Legolas returned the grin and gathered his friend and gently lifted Aragorn from the cold floor. The smile disappeared as a thought struck him.

"We need to tell his family."

* * *

The heavens had finally broken open, the pattering of the rain calming the torrent of emotions that had been raging in the house of Elrond for most of the day. It was early evening now. The twins had fallen asleep on Elrohir's bed; the sorrow wearing them down. Elrond sat in his favorite chair in his own bedroom drifting into the world of dreams, a place where there was no pain of loss.

Legolas paused in the doorway of the bedroom, sigh as he realized he would have to wake the brothers. Steeling his nerves, he walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. He reached out and touched each of their shoulders, softly calling to them. They woke and tried to rub the sleep from their bloodshot eyes.

"Legolas?" Elladan looked at the blond elf, confused. "What is it, Mellon?'

"There is something I need to tell you, but you must let me finish before either of you does anything."

The brother's looked at Legolas worriedly. "Of course. You have our word."

The Nordhir elf nodded gratefully to Elrohir. "The will be difficult for you to hear. The Nazgûl did not stop hunting Aragorn after we drove them off. They were preparing to enter Rivendell when…he died. Gandalf helped him."

"What?" Elladan jumped to his feet. "Mithrandir killed our brother?"

Legolas stopped him. "Aragorn asked him to."

The shock took Elladan's breath from him and he collapsed back onto the bed. "Estel wanted to die?"

Legolas felt his heart break. "Yes. He meant to say goodbye to the two of you and never come back. But you were the reason he fought his way out of Minas Morgul. He had to see the both of you one last time.

"He wanted to leave the day after he awoke but did not have the strength to do so." Legolas continued. "He could feel the Black Riders getting closer and he feared for your safety. He asked Mithrandir for the help he knew he could never ask of us."

He paused letting the information sink in. He knew the twins were hurting because just telling them was killing him. "Gandalf provided that aid but with a catch." Two pairs of dark eyes suddenly focused on Legolas. "Estel is alive."

"That is not funny, Legolas." Elladan glare at the one he thought was a friend.

"You will note that I am not laughing. Mithrandir used a potion that caused Aragorn's soul to flee his body for a time. Sauron now believes the last in the line of kings is dead and we are proof of that. The depth of our sorrow was very much real and we did nothing to hide it."

The long silence that followed was finally broken by Elrohir's soft voice. "How is our little brother?"

Legolas smiled. "He is better. Grumpy, but then Aragorn was never really a morning person."

The twins laughed. "Especially not after being injured!"

"And there is more good news," Legolas said after the laughter died down. The twins looked at him expectantly and he continued. "His sight has returned. Mithrandir said the blindness was caused by the two poisons that were in his body. They were purged when he 'died'."

"Can we see him?" asked Elladan, after the shock faded.

"In a few minutes. We must wait for Mithrandir to give the news to your father."

Elrohir smirked. "For once, I am glad I am not a wizard!"

* * *

"Elrond?"

The dark haired elf jerked awaked, not even realizing he had dozed off. His dreams had seemed so real. He reached up and touched his face, surprised to find it wet from tears. Perhaps the dreams had been a little too real.

"I am sorry, Gandalf," Elrond said, trying to compose himself.

"You were dreaming." It was a statement of fact that the wizard spoke, not a question.

Elrond stood and turned away from his friend. "Yes. I was dreaming of Aragorn. He was alive and well, being crowned king."

"That may yet be the future you see," Gandalf said softly.

The elf lord whipped around and glower at the man. "Aragorn is dead! How can that possibly be the future?"

Gandalf stared at the elf, realization dawning on him. "And you think that is your fault?"

"How could it not be?" Elrond sighed in frustration. "I was the one who drove him away; it was I who said those horrid things to him. I even forbade him from seeing the one he loves most."

"Arwen is a grown elf who will decide her own fate."

Elrond smiled bitterly at that and turned back towards the small fireplace the chair had been facing. "Yes she is and will. But I was still the one who inflicted the first cut into his heart. Even if he were still alive, I truly doubt he could or even would forgive me for that."

"I can forgive you, Ada," a quiet and weak voice said from the bedroom doorway. Gandalf moved aside in mild astonishment, revealing a pale Estel leaning against the doorframe. "If you can ever forgive me."

Elrond slowly turned around, wanting to believe but not daring to hope. His eyes lit on the human and hope gave way to joyful shock. He quickly crossed the room and enveloped his adopted son in a warm embrace.

Just walking the few steps to his father's room had wearied him and Elrond felt Estel go limp. The elf gently lowered them both to the floor. When the three young elves reached the bedroom, they found the lord of Rivendell holding the pale human in much the same way he had when Aragorn had died. Only this time, it was tears of joy that ran down the elf's cheek.

"Welcome home, Estel."

"It's good to be back," Aragorn mumbled, before letting sleep take him.

* * *

Namárië!


End file.
